


Making Sense

by orphan_account



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Abelism, Alternate Universe, Cerebral Palsy, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Get Together, Jewish Jack, M/M, Parent Bitty, Sledge Hockey, Teacher Jack, past homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 16:29:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10994664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Eric Bittle writes Paralympian and champion Sledge Hockey player Jack Zimmermann on behalf of his four year old daughter, he expects an autograph at best.  He does not expect being swept into the Zimmermann family chaos, and a date with the blue-eyed hockey player who seemed to have immediately stolen his heart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is nearly finished. It's been in my WIP folder for like six months and since I'm trying to clear that out, I'm posting it now. Part 2 should be up tomorrow or Friday at the latest.
> 
> [Para Ice Hockey (sledge/sled hockey)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-nXpu7ExfCQ) is used by players with mobility disabilites (SCIs, CP, MS, Amputations, etc).
> 
> In this fic Jack is a history teacher, coaches his HS hockey team, and plays on one of the local sledge hockey teams in his spare time.
> 
> Jess= Ford, since we don't know her first name (I think...feel free to correct me if I'm wrong). She and Bitty were married for the convenience of adoption, and were divorced shortly after. Matilda knows her as an aunt, not a parent, though she's around all the time.
> 
> Alexei is a single-dad presently, still a Falc, basically like a brother to Jack. I probably won't go into it in this fic but we can just assume shortly after this fic ends, he meets Ransom and they fall madly in love and get married and live happily ever after.

**Dear Mr Zimmermann,**

**I’m writing this letter on behalf of my child—who is four, and although could have a friendly conversation through text, would likely spend her time trying to sell you on the merits of mud sundaes and poopy sandwiches, as seems to be the norm for children as they creep past toddlerhood and into the strange, and disgusting world of pre-school ages.**

**Maybe not the best intro, but I also feel no shame in who she is. Bright, charismatic, excitable, one of the biggest hockey fans known to man. And was also born with cerebral palsy.**

**One of the toughest conversations was at a Bruin’s game when she turned to me with her big brown eyes and asked if she could skate, “just like them.” The thing is, I don’t like telling her no. Well, that’s not true—when she puts frozen toaster waffles in the DVD player, or wants to try to feed her lizard Lucky Charms, the no flows freely as wine and ambrosia on Mt Olympus.**

**But when those eyes look at me with wonder, excitement, and desire to do something with her body, and I have to tell her that there just isn’t anything I can do to help her accomplish that goal, it leaves me at a loss. Because she’s going to be disappointed, and as much as I would tear the world to pieces and burn it down if it meant she could do this thing…I didn’t have the means.**

**She took it in stride, as she always does when we reach moments of impasse between her and a life goal. But one of my dear friends overheard the conversation, and the next day he sent me a link. It was an Aces Charity event. Tilly, my momma, and I sat down to watch, and just after the laughing and chirping of Captain Kent Parson was trying to fit his overly large hockey behind into a sled, another face skated by with a determined look, and apparently—according to my momma—familiar.**

**“Well I’ll be. That looks just like Bad Bob Zimmermann,” she said to us.**

**Turns out—according to google, Bad Bob Zimmermann won a lot of awards. Was a hockey legend. And he had a son named Jack who was born just like my daughter. Early, oxygen deprived, with spastic diplegia cerebral palsy.**

**Jack Zimmermann has also won two gold medals with the Paralympics, and several world Championships for Canada’s sledge hockey team.**

**Well, of course you know all this. You _are_ Jack Zimmermann.**

**And I’m sure you’ve heard time and time again what you mean to little kids who might not be able to strap on ice skates and grab a stick, and chase a puck across the ice. But I can’t seem to help myself when I tell you that for Tilly, it means the world. When she watched all y’all careening across the ice with those sticks in your hand—checking and shooting, scoring and cellys—she was reminded that there’s even more available to her.**

**That if she wants to play hockey—she can.**

**I read y’all were coming to Boston for a charity game, and again, I’m sure you get asked this all the time, but if you have a minute to meet her, it would mean a lot. She’s a great kid—a little gross, inappropriate—she talks a lot—and I mean a lot, lordy I thought I was bad but this girl can give me a run for my money. But she’s sweet, and even a minute of your time for maybe an autograph and a quick photo well…it would mean the world to her.**

**I understand if you don’t have the time—Lord knows your schedule is probably packed full. I guess if nothing else comes from this letter, at the very least you can know you’ve given her proof she doesn’t have to stay limited. Not all the time. Not with everything.**

**I hope you have a great week, Mr Zimmermann, and just know we’ll be in the stands, cheering our heads off for you. Even if you are Canadian.**

**Take care!**

**All the best,**

**Eric and Matilda Bittle**

*** 

_Mr Bittle,_

_Please call me Jack. Thank you for the photo of you and Matilda. You should tell her Ladybirds are my favourite type of beetle, and that for three years in a row, I wore Ladybird face paint for Purim._

_To be honest, Mr Bittle, I hear I’m an inspiration a lot, but not very often from parents of young kids with CP who want to play hockey. More from able-bodied people who want to use my accomplishments to guilt other able-bodied people into being more active, or play more sports, or stop complaining when life is hard. So hearing about Matilda makes it a little easier to bear, because these are the letters I want to read._

_I am busy that weekend, but I’d love to meet up. I spoke with my GM and I have Sunday afternoon free. There’s a small neighbourhood park in Boston—I can send you the address—that my niece loves. There’s giant statues of turtles and lions, and we can feed the ducks, and maybe have lunch. If she’d be interested in something like that. I don’t want to impose myself on your afternoon, but I thought it would be nice. If she has any questions or anything like that._

_Also, I’d like to include ticket upgrades for the event. I can send VIP box seats, or if she wants to be closer to the action, there’s a section near the benches—wheelchair accessible—if you’d prefer._

_Thanks for cheering us on, and I’m looking forward to meeting with you._

_All the best,_

_Jack Zimmermann_

*** 

“Jackabelle! My perfect example of glorious human meatsack,” Shitty said, flinging himself on the sofa a few cushions away from Jack.

Jack sighed, glancing over at his friend. “Just when I think I understand you…”

“The real Easter Miracle is that you keep trying,” Shitty replied with a grin.

Jack snorted. “It’s June. And both of us are Jewish.”

Shitty sighed, then kicked his legs up into Jack’s lap, disturbing his laptop as he settled in. “What are you up to, man? I know it’s not social media.”

Jack shook his head, hesitated, then said, “I got an email from a fan who wants to know if I would meet his kid.”

“Uh…not like one of those, my kid is acting like a little shit and I want him to meet someone who has to work twice as hard for shit, is it?”

Jack snorted, having filtered through at least six of those that day. He clicked to enlarge the photo that Eric Bittle had sent of himself and Matilda. It was of the two of them, both in sunny, springtime yellow shirts, blue shorts, and wellies painted to look like ladybirds. They were both grinning, both striking silly poses.

Eric was thin, well-defined biceps, thick blonde hair with a cowlick in the back. His eyes were very wide, very brown, his smile bright.

His daughter had dark olive skin, a smattering of freckles across her nose which was wrinkled with her grin. Her dark hair was pulled into two plaits down her back, near her shoulders, and she wore ladybird wings, and was stood in front of a small, bright pink walker, shining glittery in the sun.

Jack turned the laptop toward Shitty. “These two.”

“Holy mother fuck, if that isn’t the cutest little father-daughter shit I have ever seen,” Shitty replied, leaning forward.

“Apparently she’s a fan,” Jack said, with the smallest grin. “Bruins,” Jack replied with a tiny sigh, making Shitty laugh. “But she caught that video we did with the Aces and Parse, and apparently Eric’s mom recognised me. Or well…thought I looked like my dad. Anyway she wants to play hockey when she grows up.”

“Fuckin’ cute,” Shitty said. “Damn. So you going to meet her?”

“Yeah. I think. He hasn’t replied, but I suggested that park near Alexei’s house we take Nat to. I thought it might be fun, and it’s pretty accessible.”

“Doesn’t hurt this brah is like…everything your type,” Shitty pointed out.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Whatever that means.”

“Blonde,” Shitty ticked off on his fingers. “Short, cute, freckles, soft, has a kid…”

“Having a kid isn’t my type,” Jack argued with a scowl.

“Whatever you say, Jacky-bear. You know I love you and I hope it works out.”

“He’s…probably you know. Occupied. Not euh…single,” Jack stuttered.

Shitty smirked at him. “No ring, brah. Bet he’s tragically single just like you. This is your meet cute, my friend. Don’t squander it.”

Jack desperately wanted to argue, but it wasn’t like Shitty was lying. Eric was Jack’s type. Physically. There was no telling what it would be like when they met, and every chance Eric was taken, or terrible, or…any and everything which would ruin Shitty’s declared meet-cute. But Jack hadn’t dated in a while. With his teaching schedule, and coaching, and his own practise, there wasn’t a lot of time for a personal life.

And it was…lonely. 

But this wasn’t about dating. This was about showing a little girl—who was a lot like himself, stuck wondering, can I do this? Will I be enough? Will I be capable?—that there was so much world to experience, and so much to enjoy.

He sighed again, but offered Shitty a small smile. “You know me, Shits. I take every shot.”

*** 

Eric covered his mouth with his fingers to muffle his shout. Tilly was in the living room, playing with her new Batgirl doll—loudly, as usual. He’d just got the email from Jack Zimmermann, and his heart was threatening to thump out of his chest.

This was, quite possibly, more exciting than the one like he’d gotten on twitter from Nicki back in his Junior year after attending her concert. Jack Zimmermann was a low-key celebrity in the sport world, and he’d been his daughter’s idol now for the past seven months, and just knowing that not only did Jack want to meet her, but spend the afternoon…

He looked up at Jess—his best friend, and by the strangest circumstances, his ex-wife—and she cocked her head to the side.

“Do I have to beat it out of you?” she asked.

Eric rolled his eyes. “I…might have taken your advice and emailed Jack Zimmermann about getting Tilly an autograph.”

Jess’ eyes widened. “And?” she demanded. “Is he going to do a meet and greet? Tell me he’s not going to pull some dumb shit and mail her a jersey.”

Eric felt like he was going to vibrate straight out of his skin. He half considered just screaming the email aloud, but in hopes of maybe not scarring his daughter by his over the top excitement, he turned the laptop toward her and let her read.

Her eyes scanned the conversation, then she looked up, her mouth twitching at the corners. “First of all…what the hell even is that language you used in that email? Holy shit. But then he uses it right back and well I’m embarrassed to state I was ever married to someone who is so nerdy.”

“You were a stage manager all through college,” Eric defended with a sniff. “It doesn’t get more nerdy than that! And our marriage was a sham.”

She shrugged. “Sham-schmam. And no. It was a nerdy job which I made bad-ass. And that’s beside the point. The point is,” she lowered her voice to a hissing whisper, “holy fucking shit, Till gets to spend the day with Jack Zimmermann.”

“I know,” Eric hissed back. “She’s going to scream for days.”

“Did you tell her?” Jess demanded.

“I literally just got the email now,” Eric said. “I kind of want to surprise her like…the day of the game? You know. So I don’t have to deal with her asking me about it every nine seconds?”

Jess laughed. “Yeah, babe. I get it. Anyway, holy shit. Jack Zimmermann.”

Eric grinned widely at her. “I _know_.”

*** 

“No! I don’t want it! Daddy noooooo.” The doll went flying, thunking into the wheel of the chair, flopping to the ground like a tragic Barbie death.

Eric sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to adjust the straps on her orthotics. “Sweetheart if you just…”

“No! I don’t!”

Eric dropped her leg, the heavy orthotic thumping on the hardwood floor, and she crossed her arms, huffing and pouting. Her cheeks were puffed, nose wrinkled, one of her bobbles on her plait loose, but not falling out just yet.

Nothing had gone right that morning. First she had refused to take her bath. Then she’d refused to put on the outfit she’d painstakingly chosen the night before, and would only be satisfied with her Unicorn leggings to go with her Zimmermann jersey which then upset her because the colours didn’t match exactly since Canadian Red and White clashed a bit with the soft pastels in blues, yellows, pinks and purples.

He’d finally gotten her to agree to a red tutu with sparkly black leggings underneath, but then she’d demanded her furry boots which fit over her old orthotics, but her new ones were bigger, and he couldn’t get them to slide over.

The only shoes besides her new trainers that fit were her wellies, and only because Eric had cut a slice down the back of them and fit them over her feet and orthotics like a cover instead of proper shoes, which would not be acceptable at the game.

“Sweetpea, they’re the only shoes that fit, and you liked them just fine all week at school. And I promise we’re gonna find you some nice boots that fit, but we can’t do it until after. So please just…put the trainers on.”

“No,” she said.

And the part of him that wanted to properly parent his child and not give into her spoilt tantrum wanted to tell her if she didn’t co-operate, they’d not be going to the game. But it was an empty threat and he knew it. So he sat back on his heels and said, “If you don’t wear your trainers, you’ll go barefoot. And that means you’ll be in your chair the entire time. No walker.”

Tilly’s face went dark, and her arms crossed even harder over her chest. He could see her left leg starting to spasm from the stress and tension, but she continued to stare at him, the four-year-old sized battle of wills.

“What is it? Trainers or chair, Matilda?”

After what felt like hours upon hours—which was what twenty minutes in toddler time was like, she flopped backward, her head thumping on the floor. Her arms spread out and her fists clenched, but she let out a breath and shouted, “Trainers!”

He wanted to fist-pump in triumph, but instead he gathered himself and said, “Okay sweetheart. Just like you want.”

She was un co-operative as it was with the trainers, but less than she had been before. He tied them up, then offered her a hand, then she climbed to her knees, then to her feet. She shuffled to her walker and grabbed the handles, and began her trek to the door.

“Okay come on time to go!”

Eric scrambled for her chair, pushing it toward the door laden with their overnight bags and the seed they’d gone to the shop for, and car snacks and iPads and everything else under the sun to keep her occupied for the long weekend.

They lived forty five minutes outside of the city, and the drive would be worth it, as would the stay at the hotel eating into Eric’s savings, but the look on his daughter’s face when she got to see other players with CP tearing it up on the ice was worth every single cent.

*** 

Eric wouldn’t have pegged himself for death by cardiac arrest at the tender age of thirty-one, but he realised the universe was testing him when he went to collect the badges that Jack had emailed about, and found them hand-delivered by one Bad Bob Zimmermann.

The man was tall, thick hair, a wide smile, heavy brown eyes. He took Eric in first, then looked down to Tilly who was staring with her mouth slightly open since she’d seen video after video of Bad Bob after her gran confessed her old college crush.

“You must be Eric and Matilda?” he said.

Eric was lost for a second in the accent, but gathered himself long enough to quickly shake his hand. “Mr Bad…uh. Mr uh…Jack’s dad? Sir?” If the earth opened up and swallowed him whole right then, it wouldn’t be soon enough.

Bob merely chuckled. “Bob is just fine. It’s a pleasure to meet you. And you must be Matilda?”

“Okay,” she said.

Bob chuckled and offered his hand, and she gave him a polite shake as she’d learnt to do. “Are you ready to see some hockey?”

“Are you haffing hockey?” she demanded.

“I’m watching my son, Jack. You’re wearing his jersey.”

She tugged on the front of her shirt, looking down, then back up at him. “I don’t think.”

Bob laughed. “You don’t think so?”

Tilly shook her head. “No. He’s my team.”

“Ah. Silly me,” Bob said, but then pulled down the hem of his own Jersey. “We’re matching though. So can we be friends?”

Tilly considered this for a long moment, and Eric held his breath, afraid this was the moment she’d out with something so rude it would ruin any chance of Jack or Bob ever wanting to even breathe the same air as them ever again.

Then Tilly gave her best put-upon sigh and lifted one hand from her walker and said, “Okay but you could carry me.”

Eric opened his mouth, but the protest died on his tongue as Bob swept her up and onto his hip. “Look how tall you are now. Taller than your papa, eh?”

Eric, flustered and hopelessly charmed by this entire dang family, managed to grab their bags and Tilly’s walker, and make his way down the stands, into the pre-set area near Canada’s bench. It was a wide, comfortable space enough for wheelchairs and walkers. Most of the space was unoccupied, along with the player’s bench which seemed to upset Tilly more than anything.

“But where?” she demanded.

Bob, who had yet to put her down, walked to the railing where the players would come out. “See that hallway? They’re coming just from there, ma chérie. They’ll come warm up soon and say hi, okay? I promise.”

She looked unconvinced, but wriggled out of Bob’s arms and grabbed her walker to explore the area. Bob sat with a huff and a grin.

“She gets it from you?” he asked.

Eric flushed. “Lordy, no. She’s a spitfire of her own right. My momma loves it. Said I could learn a thing or two from her.”

Bob chuckled as he watched her lean over the railing to watch the Zamboni which was currently circling the ice. “Jack was much quieter than her. Determined all the same, but never vocal about it. When he wanted something, he’d just…go for it.”

Eric smiled softly. “Yeah. You kinda get that impression through his gameplay. Like instinct, he knows where the puck is, knows exactly how to angle, the right second to shoot. Doesn’t ask, doesn’t call out to the guys. Just…does it.”

Bob laughed. “You watched a lot of his games?”

“Have to. Number one fan and all.” Eric smiled at Tilly who’d sat down on her walker and was kicking her legs a bit. “She’ll be out there some day. You can count on that.”

Bob laughed. “I’ve no doubt.” He hesitated, then said, “I’m glad you emailed Jack. He doesn’t get a lot of messages from fans like you and Matilda. It made his weekend.”

Eric flushed. “He’d…said that in the email, but I thought he was being polite.”

Bob sighed. “He meets a lot of kids with CP, don’t get me wrong. But the parents tend to be…” He bit his lip, then shrugged. “They like to make it about them. Social media about how hard they work for their child. It’s never…really about the kid. And there was something different in the way you talked about Matilda. Like she was just a kid, who loved hockey. Who had CP like Jack. I’m…not sure I’m explaining it well.”

“I get it,” Eric said softly, and he did get it. He knew those parents. He’d met them in therapy groups and peer support groups, and they weren’t easy to deal with. “I’m just glad he wanted to spend the afternoon with us. I just want her to have that influence, you know? I can’t give her that. I can love her, and support her. But nothing about me can show her what the rest of the world will tell her is impossible, or will tell her that her accomplishments exist for their consumption.”

Bob smiled a half smile. “Well you’ve got Jack now. He told me himself he can’t wait. And I don’t hear that from him often. To meet her and _you_.”

Eric blushed harder, but before he could say anything else, the players started to take the ice, and the rest was all game chaos.

*** 

Jack recognised them straight away—and not because his father was holding a child on his shoulders, though that was a dead give-away. But Eric Bittle was up against the glass cheering with the best of them, and it fuelled Jack’s game.

They grabbed a win, 3-4, and Jack was riding his high back in the locker room as he was changing at his stall.

His post-game change was interrupted by the door flying open, and his favourite friend burst through the door, throwing himself on Jack’s lap.

“Jacques Laurent!” Shitty cried.

“Jacque means James,” he replied dryly.

“James Laurent!” Shitty corrected, and ignored Jack’s eyeroll, though he landed with the grace of a cat when Jack shoved him off his lap. “I saw the glorious loins who birthed you walking down the hall with a certain blonde and small child.”

Jack felt his cheeks heat up. “Euh…”

“Coming this way. I thought I’d pre-warn you. In case you wanted to…” Shitty waved his hand at Jack’s bare chest, and Jack quickly fumbled for his Henley, slipping it on just as the locker room door opened again, and a tentative face poked through.

When Bob saw nearly everyone was dressed, he strolled in with the small girl still on his shoulders, looking every bit the role of grandfather he’s always wanted. Jack felt a tiny wave of guilt, but it was eclipsed by the sudden hitch in his breath when the girl’s father wandered in, looking just as shy and uncertain about where they were.

Jack knew damn well this wasn’t about dating, or finding an opportunity, but he’d also be the biggest liar if he tried to say that at the very least, Eric wasn’t his type. Dating wasn’t ever easy for Jack. He was spoilt in the way that a lot of people he’d grown up around didn’t infantilise him as much as strangers did, but there was always some level of care-taking that went beyond what a normal relationship was about. He noticed it in subtle ways—even with Kent, back in the Q when the Zimmermanns were his billet family. And Kent was better than most, but there was still that disconnect, the othering Jack endured most of his life.

So even though his heart was skipping beats staring at Eric’s wide, hesitant brown eyes, and the tiny, quirking smile when Tater started to tickle Matilda’s sides and tell her all about his little girl, Jack didn’t let himself get too far. Because it always ended badly.

All the same, Jack finished tying up his trainers—grateful he didn’t have to deal with wearing a suit for the press—grateful there wasn’t some uncomfortable, fancy dinner full of pointless small talk and awkward smiles at charity press cameras. He reached against the side of his stall for his crutches, then pushed himself up and walked over to his dad who was carefully easing Matilda down to the floor. Eric had her walker—the design far more sleek and bright than he had back when he was a kid—and she took it with practised ease, shuffling over to Tater who was now sat on the floor pulling out his phone to show her the latest photos of their puppy.

“She’s kind of pet-mad right now,” Eric explained when Jack raised a curious brow. “Also she has no shame or concept of stranger danger, which speaks highly of my parenting skills, I’m sure.”

Jack chuckled. “It’s alright. The other day at the zoo my niece crawled into a stranger’s lap for a bite of their snow cone. Like…it was the most normal thing in the world.”

Eric pressed his fingers to his lips with a giggle. “Oh lord. Except I could absolutely see miss Tilly doing that.” Then he gestured with emphasis as the girl had abandoned her walker, and was now crawling into Tater’s lap like she’d known him her whole life.

“He’s a good guy,” Jack insisted.

Bob smiled at the two of them. “I’m glad everyone’s getting along, since she really wants to come swim at the hotel.”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up, and Eric went bright pink and stammered, “Oh right um. But I know we…for tomorrow…park.” He cleared his throat. “We have a pool where we’re staying so we don’t have to…”

“Ours has a water slide,” Bob said. “Small one, for littles like her. It’ll be fun. Right, Jack?”

Jack bit his lip, then stole another glance at Eric who was still looking mortified—a common occurrence with Bob who just sort of…dove in when he felt like it—and he quickly put Eric out of his misery. “I think it would be fun. Unless she’s not…into swimming?”

“Oh she loves it,” Eric said quickly. “It’s actually part of her PT—well, not waterslides,” he said with a small laugh. “But no, she’d be a fish if she could.”

“Mermaid,” the small girl all-but shouted from the circle of Tater’s arms. “I could be a mermaid,” she said slightly quieter.

“You would make best mermaid,” Alexei said with a serious nod. “Like little mermaid. Maybe no bad sea witch.”

Matilda wrinkled her nose. “But…she’s…sad. So she wouldn’t steal some voices if she was…if she…” She sighed and shrugged. “Had some happy family.”

“You want us being her family?” Alexei asked.

Matilda nodded sagely. “Maybe she could be my friend.”

Jack couldn’t help a grin at Eric who was looking besotted and a little exasperated. “So…swimming?”

Eric laughed. “Y’all make a convincing argument. We don’t have any of our stuff though, so I can…”

“I’m sure the hotel shop has everything we need. And I won’t hear an argument against it,” Bob cut in before Eric could protest. “Come on, let’s get out of here before Jack gets roped into more press. We have some swimming to do.”

*** 

Jack was not a fan of swimming. Part of him wondered if it was his own experience with water therapy when he was younger. But it had been rough, and his therapists ranged between those who believed people with cerebral palsy couldn’t and shouldn’t do anything apart from sit in a wheelchair, to those who believed that if you dropped a small boy in a pool who had stiff, spastic legs, they’d mentally overcome the block and save themselves before drowning.

Needless to say, it had taken a few years, and better minds in the field of physical therapy, for Jack to feel more confident accepting their help. And it wasn’t as though his parents weren’t murderous when he sat on the concrete side of the pool coughing up a lung full of water, but it had been enough that when Jack visited pools, he mainly stayed on the loungers.  
Eric seemed content to do the same thing, as it turned out. Especially when it was clear Alexei and Bob were more than happy to take Tilly into the pool, and into the small splash park with the short slide she could use without needing to actually swim on her own.

“She’s very…enthusiastic,” Jack said after a moment.

Eric laughed. “That’s one word for it, yeah. She tends to command a room. Or a pool. Whatever.”

Jack chuckled and pushed himself up a little higher on the lounger. “I wasn’t like that as a kid. Later I realised a lot of it was undiagnosed anxiety, but…people were always watching us. Shocked that a person like Bob Zimmermann—hockey god—would produce a child with a disability.” He said the word with the same type of shock and bitterness the press had flung at him and his parents most of his life.

Eric rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s shit.”

Jack shrugged. “It’s not as shit now.”

Glancing over, Eric’s mouth quirked. “I like the way you say ‘it’s shit’. Your accent, I mean. It’s French?”

“Quebecois.”

“Is there a difference?”

Jack laughed again. “Yes. I’m Canadian, not French. Pronunciation isn’t the same. Words are, though, so it would be… ç'est merde.” 

Eric’s cheeks pinked, but he was still grinning. “I’m not gonna try it. I’ll just embarrass myself.”

“I doubt it,” Jack said, then stopped himself because he realised he was flirting, and he realised it was…easy. And different. He took a breath, then said, “I’m sorry if my dad bullied you into this. He’s used to getting his way, and if you really want, I can step in.”

Eric shook his head. “It’s fine, really. I wasn’t expecting…” He let out a little, ‘hah’ and shrugged. “We’re not really used to people just bein’ alright with us like that. It’s always been a struggle.”

“With her CP?” Jack asked.

Eric shrugged. “That. My parents. My momma…she loves her but she wasn’t thrilled about me adopting.”

“Oh she’s…” Jack said, then stopped because it felt rude.

Eric didn’t seem entirely bothered, however, and nodded. “Lord, it’s a complicated story and I don’t want to bore you with it.”

“I’m listening,” Jack said, his voice soft, and so honest.

Eric’s cheeks got a little brighter, and he ducked his head a bit, but he carried on. “Nate and I…my boyfriend. Ex boyfriend,” he clarified, his tone a little heavier. “We’d been together…lord,” he said behind a sigh. “Goin’ on six years. All through college. Thought we were good. He would talk about family, marriage, kids, all that. He was there when I came out to my parents—when my daddy decided he could handle a figure-skating son, a baking son, but a homo…” Eric trailed off, and Jack fought the urge to reach over and just hug him. “Nate met Carly at his AA meeting. She wasn’t doin’ real well, six weeks pregnant, kept using. He suggested it first, the adoption. He was doing real well, you know. Three years sober, said he could handle it, said he was ready to be a parent. So we dumped all our savings into this lawyer, and then three weeks later, I come home from work and all his things are gone, and there’s a note on the table. Just says, sorry. That’s it. Sorry.”

Jack swallowed thickly. “I’m…shit, I’m sorry. That’s awful.”

Eric shrugged. “I was heart-broken. I already loved this baby and she wasn’t more’n three months along in this poor girl’s belly. Lawyer said maybe the adoption would go through, bein’ private and all, but it was more than I could afford. Then Jess…she was my best friend all through college. Her gran had just passed and she got this estate and well…next thing you know she and I are at the courthouse getting married.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “So you’re…”

Eric laughed. “Oh sweetheart, I’m gayer’n a maypole, and divorced. We didn’t think Matilda was gonna come so early, but we got the call a few months later. Eight weeks early, clingin’ to life in this little cot in the NICU. I spent hours there reading her books…”

“Matilda?” Jack asked with a soft smile.

Eric laughed. “How’d you guess?” He bit his lip, then sighed and said, “I wanted to be her when I was real little. Wanted to have a secret power I could use to protect myself from the boys at school who used to…” He trailed off and shook his head. “Small town Georgia was no place for a boy like me to grow up. Anyway, I saw how strong she was. She was a fighter. And she was magic, even if it wasn’t Matilda’s sort of magic. She didn’t make things fly or solve complicated maths equations, but she healed a broken heart. She got bigger, and got better, and…well…here we are.”

Jack’s gaze drifted out to the water where Bob had her by the hands, spinning her in a slow circle. She was giggling and brighter than the sun. A lot like her dad. Jack glanced back at Eric who was also watching, almost enthralled, his mouth turned up. Jack was fucked.

“Here we are,” Jack echoed, and Eric startled a little, giving an embarrassed laugh as he looked back over at Jack. “My childhood wasn’t like yours. But I understand that feeling of…isolation. Being different.”

Eric laughed, reaching over to squeeze Jack’s thigh just above his knee. “I have no doubt, hon. I think in a way that’s why I wasn’t as afraid to reach out. You don’t owe us anything, but it means a lot all the same. That game…” Eric shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so excited. Knowing that could be her one day.”

Jack nodded, almost defiantly. “It will be, if she really wants it. It isn’t easy, but it’s fun.”

Eric settled back against his lounger, and waved when Matilda waved, and clapped when she shouted, “Watch me, daddy!” and was launched across the water from Bob’s arms to Alexei’s.

“Lord, she’s gonna want to join a swim team next,” Eric said. “I’m gonna have myself a little Olympian. Just you watch.”

Jack laughed. “I don’t doubt her.”

Eric looked hesitant, then, but took a breath, and sounded like he was scrambling for bravery when he turned to Jack. “Is there…lord if I’m readin’ this wrong I’m sorry but…you wouldn’t want to maybe have dinner some time, would you?”

Jack’s knee-jerk reaction was always to say no. To smile politely, to shake his head and tell the person he just wasn’t dating right now. But he couldn’t get himself to even think that. Not with the way Eric looked hopeful, and not with the way that it felt different than those other times—like Eric wasn’t trying to make a show of treating Jack normal. Or trying to get close to Bob or Alexei. Or that he wanted anything other than just to sit and have a meal. And maybe a kiss. But maybe that was Jack just being hopeful.

Whatever it was, Jack found himself saying, “Strangely enough, I happen to have tonight free. And two men who seem like they might be happy to babysit.”

Eric looked startled, then burst out laughing. “Yeah. I reckon you might be right on that last one.”

Just then, Matilda gave a huge squeal as Bob tossed her in the air, caught her, and then waved at the two men on loungers.

*** 

**tfw you got yourself a FAMOUS ATHLETE to babysit your daughter so you can go on your first date in like almost five years.**

Eric didn’t get a text back. His phone immediately began to ring, and he laughed as he answered. “Jess.”

“Holy fucking shit which one? Wait…is it Jack? Is Jack babysitting.”

“His dad,” Eric hissed into the phone as he rummaged through his case for something appropriate to wear. Eric had insisted on Jack picking the restaurant since he knew the area better, and Jack assured him it was a jeans sort of casual which was good, but he still wanted to look nice. “Fuck, why didn’t I think this through? I have nothing to wear.”

“You should anticipate being asked out all the time,” Jess said, scolding him. “You’re super hot.”

Eric flushed as he found an acceptable button-up, and held it up to his chest at the mirror. “Actually um. I might have done the asking out, though he seemed…fairly enthused.”

There was a silence, then a loud shriek as Jess said, “OH MY GOD IS IT JACK?”

“Did I not mention that?” Eric said a little sheepishly.

“How the…what did you…tell me everything!”

Scrubbing his hand down his face, Eric gave her the short version of the afternoon. Of Bob greeting them at the entrance, the game, the locker room, the pool. “He was smiling at me and I just…went for it. Shit, that could have gone so bad,” he groaned.

“But it didn’t, and you’re gonna get some and it’s going to be great and Jack fucking Zimmermann is going to be Tilly’s step-dad. I’m going to literally die.”

Eric slapped his hand over his face. “Just…no tweeting or anything about this until I know how it’s going to go? I do not need public humiliation right now.”

“God, fine,” she groaned. “But I got dibs on breaking the news.”

“If the press doesn’t first. They’re all over with this charity thing. Thank god he’s out,” Eric said. “Anyway honey, I have to go. I told him I’d get Tilly back to the hotel in ten.”

“Let me talk to her,” Jess said. “I’ll hang up with her, and you can give me deets tomorrow.”

Eric sighed, but poked his head round the corner to see Matilda playing with her batgirl doll on the floor near the window. She was wearing her Unicorn footie pyjamas, her hair in soft curls round her shoulders after pulling out her plaits, and she looked up with a grin.

“You wanna say goodnight to Foxy?”

“Yeah, okay!”

Eric walked over and handed her the phone, then scuttled back to the bathroom to change. His face was splotchy from excitement, his freckles standing out against his blush, but the shirt complimented him enough, and his jeans were form-fitting but left a little to the imagination. His nerves were starting to get the better of him as he tied up his shoes, and he took a few minutes to breathe through them.

He glanced over at his daughter who was brushing through Batgirl’s hair, and sighed. “You had a fun day?”

“Ummmm.” She looked up at Eric with her wide eyes. “Okay.”

“It was just okay?” he teased.

She giggled. “Yeah. Pea-cos I could…be a mermaid.”

“True, you do love the water.” He bit his lip. “You liked Bob?”

She nodded sagely. “But he’s my friend. He was real nice.”

“He was,” Eric said quietly. Bob was the sort of man he’d always envisioned as a granddad. The sort of man he thought Coach might be—assuming wrongly that once Eric had a child, once Eric was settled and happy, his father might get over everything. Somewhere deep inside he knew it was a foolish thing to hope for, but he just wanted his child to have a better time growing up than he’d had. He expected everyone to just fall in love with her, for it to just be okay. Suzanne was better than Coach, but it didn’t erase the sting.

And Jess’ parents were wonderful, calling, skyping, sending gifts. But they lived in California and seeing them twice a year was nice, but Eric had wanted more for his little girl.

Seeing her with Bob and Alexei that afternoon had meant a lot. It wasn’t how he’d expected the weekend to go. He’d hoped Jack would be charmed by her, he’d hoped maybe she’d make a friend, someone she could talk to over the years when she had questions, when she felt disappointed or frustrated and needed someone who had been there. Jack was the sort of person who could give Matilda what she needed, something Eric couldn’t, because he’d never understand what it was like to grow up that way, to exist in a body like hers.

He hadn’t expected to be going on a date. He hadn’t expected to get a feeling of warmth and family.

“Daddy, but um…” Matilda said as Eric gathered her on his hip, and managed to haul her bags, and walker out of the hotel door, and toward the lifts. “Are you haffing dinner?”

“I am, sweetheart,” he said, leaning over so she could push the button on the lift. “With Jack. Is that okay? You gonna be alright with Bob and Alexei?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice serious and stoic. “We could watch Moana, and then maybe some…maybe some Princess anna Frog.”

Eric smiled and kissed her cheek. “I’m excited for you, baby. You really like them, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said. “A lot.”

As they got to the car, Eric let out a tiny sigh and held her close. “Me too, sweetpea.” He just hoped it wasn’t going to blow up in his face, and ruin the small, good thing he’d carved out for his daughter. When he thought about Jack though, and his chirpy laugh and soft blue eyes, he thought just maybe the Universe was finally being kind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two as promised--lots of blushing and smooching and over-the top being fluffy and gross.

He was distracted by Bob and Alexei, trying to give them all the emergency information, passing along Jess’ number, and who to call if what happened and when. Eric hadn’t been on a date since before Nate, and although he had good friends he trusted to watch his daughter, this was the first time he was getting a proper night out in four years.

So, understandably, he was nervous. A thousand and one scenarios ran through his head. What if they weren’t paying close enough attention and she fell—that happened often enough when Eric _was_ paying attention. She could get a concussion, or a broken bone, or a…

His thoughts, however, trailed off when he heard a shuffling sound, and turned to see Jack coming out of the bathroom. Eric’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the other man. He was in jeans, as he’d promised, and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. The top button was undone far enough to reveal a white under shirt, and Eric could just make out the firm outline of well-defined pecs.

His mouth went dry, and he cleared his throat as he watched Jack brace himself against the wall with one hand as he made his way into the lounge area of the hotel room. Jack’s gaze caught Eric’s, and Eric watched him do a slow up and down, then blush a little as he grabbed the edge of the arm chair and sat.

“Hi,” Eric managed, breathy and soft. He ignored the way Bob and Alexei shared a glance, trying to fight off his own blush that threatened to set him on fire from the inside. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that he never went out, or that he just really, really liked Jack.

Damn. He really needed to get out more.

“Sorry, I had to take a call, so I’m just a few minutes behind,” Jack said as he reached for a pair of trainers that were under the low table.

When Eric set eyes on the shoes, he blinked. They were bright, hideous yellow with white accents, and he found himself coughing and saying, “What are those?”

Jack looked up, then flushed a little deeper. “I get them because they have a thicker sole, so I don’t rip through them as quick.”

Eric flushed in embarrassment. “Oh god, I’m sorry I didn’t…”

“He’s lying,” Alexei said, and Jack shot his friend a look of utter betrayal. “Company making many colours. I’m having black ones, blue ones. Jack just having worst taste. Like Bob.”

Bob gave a helpless shrug from his place on the floor where Matilda had made herself at home as she dug through her bag of crafts. She was pulling out her little set of beads and strings to make bracelets, chattering away nonsensically. “He got my good looks, and terrible fashion sense. I’ll shoulder the blame for it.”

“I hate you both,” Jack murmured as he laced up his other shoe.

Eric couldn’t help a chuckle, and took two steps forward, letting his hand fall on Jack’s shoulder. Jack looked up, a little startled, but his lips turned up in a half smile. “Well…it isn’t a deal-breaker.”

Jack murmured something in French Eric didn’t understand, but he looked happy. He hesitated, bit his lip, then pushed himself up, away from Eric’s hand, and moved to grab his crutches which were up against the wall. “Are we alright if I take my car?”

Eric shrugged. “That’s fine. So long as it’s okay that I’m in the car park here.”

“You’ll be fine,” Bob assured him. “You two kids have fun.” He then said something else, a long string of French which made Jack blush bright red, and hiss something back.

“Y’all, that is so unfair,” Eric said with a huff.

“He teaching it to little myshka next,” Alexei said solemnly. “Then I’m teaching her Russian. She have three languages, be smartest in her school.”

Matilda looked up with a grin, and Eric walked over to kiss her goodbye. “You be good, okay? Promise you’ll behave.”

“I _am_ being hay-ve,” she insisted, crossing her arms.

Eric snorted. “Whatever you say, baby. I’ll see you in a little bit. Have a fun sleep-over.”

Jack led the way out the door, and to the lifts. It was silent until the doors shut, and Eric let out a breath, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Lordy, I am so nervous. I’m sorry if I’m just an awkward mess.”

Jack’s smile was soft, and he shook his head, leaning on one crutch so he could tilt his body toward Eric. “I don’t mind. In case it’s not obvious, I’m not the most…personable guy.”

Eric lifted a brow. “I think you’re selling yourself short, sir. Or maybe it’s just that no one pays attention. But I’ve heard your terrible dad jokes.” He winked just as the lift doors opened, and they headed out to the lobby.

The valet brought Jack’s car round—a small, sporty thing painted in a pearlescent black. Eric slid into the passenger seat as Jack threw his crutches into the back, and settled his legs under the dash. He grabbed the hand controls, then looked over at Eric and smiled. “All good?”

Eric nodded, and as Jack pulled away from the kerb he said, “I’m surprised it’s not yellow.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Am I ever going to live that down?”

Giggling, Eric shrugged. “We’ll see. I’m sure you have plenty of other adorably ridiculous fashion quirks I can chirp you for. I mean, we’re just getting to know each other.”

Jack flushed again, but he was smiling, stealing glances every so often when the traffic was slow.

The drive to the restaurant wasn’t far, and there wasn’t valet, but Jack was able to find parking close to the front. Eric waited as Jack grabbed his crutches from the back, his nerves zinging up his spine, but in a good way. A way that made him want to giggle and smile and lean into Jack when they were standing close.

He hadn’t felt that way in so long. Even with Nate, it hadn’t lasted much longer than a few weeks. Their relationship had been mostly convenience, both of them busy with school and other things to want to deal with a break-up. They didn’t demand a lot of each other’s time, and when Nate went into rehab and then AA, Eric was supportive and careful, making it easy for Nate to want to stay.

But there wasn’t a lot of love, and it had taken working through the grief of Nate just up and leaving for Eric to see that. It still stung, but perhaps not as much as it should have, if Eric had been in love as he thought he was.

He pushed Nate out of his thoughts, though, as they headed for the doors. Jack held them for Eric, giving a little bow, making Eric snicker. “Such a gentleman.”

“My mother would kill me if I was impolite on a first date,” Jack said with a wink, making Eric roll his eyes.

“Lord have mercy, Canadian politeness and Southern hospitality. We’re gonna end up fighting over pulling out chairs, opening car doors, and covering puddles with jackets, aren’t we?”

“We might,” Jack said with a chuckle, then turned the corner where Eric saw a huge staircase leading up.

Before he could ask about it, Jack directed them round the side to the lifts, and Eric pushed the button, waiting for the little ding. “So it’s upstairs?” he asked.

Jack nodded. “Mm. Actually, I was able to book us a rooftop table, which I thought since it was fairly nice out, you might…enjoy it? We can switch, eat in if you prefer,” he finished in a hurry, uncertainty colouring his tone.

Eric quickly shook his head as they stepped in, and Jack hit the button labelled R. “Sweetheart, this is perfectly fine, really. That sounds…” He wanted to say romantic, because good god it was maybe the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for him. But he didn’t want to get ahead of himself, or make Jack feel uncomfortable. “It sounds lovely,” he finally said.

Jack smiled, and when the lift dinged, they stepped out into a wide expanse of concrete overlooking the city. There were a handful of small sectionals scattered near a bar, and each had a small, round firepit with a gaslit fire glowing.

The hostess quickly took Jack’s name, then led the pair of them to the table nearest to the edge of the building. The view was breath-taking, the city below them small and starting to light up as the last rays of the sun dipped low in the sky. There was a chilly breeze, but the server quickly lit the fire, and Eric was enveloped in a soft warmth as he settled on the cushions near Jack—close, but not close enough to touch.

Yet.

Jack was watching him, the glow of the fire making his cheeks light up, and Eric felt his breath catch. He forced himself to look away, and he took a breath. “So…how did you find this place?”

Jack chuckled as he settled his crutches against the side of the sofa, and leant back. “Alexei.”

Eric’s eyebrows went up. “Actually…I’m not surprised by that. This seems like a random little spot he’d find.”

Jack shrugged. “It…haha. It’s how we became friends, in a way? My dad used to own the Falconers, and Alexei had just been named Alternate Captain—right after their first Stanley Cup win. It was oh…ten years ago?”

Eric nodded. “I mean, I don’t know. I don’t follow nearly as much hockey as I should.”

Jack shook his head. “It’s fine. My dad…he gets really involved with the players. Wants to make them feel safe, welcome. Not a lot of owners are like that, but it’s important to him. Alexei came out to my dad not long after the win, and my dad thought he and I might…make a good couple.”

Eric looked startled. “Oh. Oh my gosh…”

Jack chuckled. “Yeah. So we talked a little, then he asked me on a date, and he took me here. Only…at the time, there was no lift.”

“Oh no,” Eric breathed.

Jack nodded. “I’d actually just had a surgery, and the date was the first time I was really going anywhere on my crutches again, so navigating up the stairs was impossible for me. I was…a little nervous, you know? That he might try something like carrying me…”

“Do people do that?” Eric asked.

Jack shrugged. “It’s happened before. I’ve had people cut my food for me, rip things out of my hands, try and pick me up and put me over a kerb when I’m walking down the street.”

Eric’s cheeks went hot with frustration. “That’s…lord that would never occur to me!”

Jack snorted, and knocked his knee against Eric’s. “Yes well, it might be because you’re so tiny…”

“Excuse you, Mr Jolly Canadian Giant, but I am a normal sized person. It’s not my fault you got those ridiculous Greek God genes.”

Jack flushed again, looking down at the fire. “Greek God, eh?”

“Oh my god,” Eric groaned. “I won’t mention those shoes again, and you don’t mention the Greek God thing. Deal?”

Jack’s grin went wider. “Deal.”

“So about the date…”

“Ah right. Well, he didn’t do anything like that. He just apologised over and over, and we went somewhere else and it was perfectly fine. We decided that night we weren’t really compatible. Not for dating. But we got along really well. And being that he’s not far from Boston well…we ended up hanging out a lot. One evening he showed up at my place. I was drowning in history finals, trying to get all the marking done by the end of the week, and he dragged me out and we ended up here.”

Eric’s eyes widened. “Did he…?”

Jack laughed. “Apparently after the first date, he paid for the restaurant to install a lift, insisting that it should be accessible to anyone, regardless of their mobility. He actually had his wedding reception up here.”

“Oh,” Eric said. “I didn’t realise he was…”

“Divorced,” Jack said with a small sigh. “It was short lived, but he got Nat out of it, and things are good between him and his ex. She has Nat during most of the season, Alexei has her during summers, and some of the pre-season. It works for them.”

Eric smiled softly. “Yeah. He really seems like the dad type.”

Jack shook his head. “A bit.”

Their conversation came to a halt when it was time to order, and Eric let Jack take the lead, getting them a bunch of dishes to share. They skipped alcohol, Eric’s nerves too shot for it, and Jack driving. But Eric felt half-drunk on emotions anyway as they slowly shifted closer to each other, warmed by their presence, and by the fire.

When they started talking again, they were speaking low, heads very close, Jack’s hand having migrated from the sofa cushion to Eric’s knee. Eric could feel the pressure, profound and intense, shooting up through his limbs. When he was brave enough, he put his hand on the back of Jack’s, and was rewarded with an upturned palm, with their fingers pushing together.

“…was a lot,” Eric was saying. “I didn’t think I could do it, you know? The whole being a single dad, and working, and taking care of the house. I mean, eventually I found a routine, and Jess is a huge help. She never really wanted kids—I mean it’s not a never ever for her, but it’s a not right now. But she loves Tilly to death and I know I couldn’t have done it without her.”

“Well you’ve done an amazing job,” Jack said. He hesitated, then squeezed Eric’s hand. “I know this weekend was supposed to be for her, and I feel bad I haven’t really spent a lot of time with her.”

Eric shook his head, reaching forward to spear a bit of fried mushroom on his fork. “She’s happy, and there’s always tomorrow, right?” When Jack frowned, Eric nudged him. “I do believe you promised her a playdate at the park.”

Jack flushed as he chewed, and looked away. “Right. I…I didn’t forget. I was just…distracted.”

Eric felt self-doubt creep into his bones, and he pulled away from Jack slightly. “If it’s too much time too fast…you know. With us and everything…we can…”

Jack was quick to shake his head. “No. Eric I…of course it’s not. I was actually thinking, maybe we can get some ice time? There’s a youth sledge hockey group here, and I can get some equipment for her to try out, if you like. Do you euh…do you skate?”

Eric bit his lip. “Um. I used to figure skate? I won silver twice at the Junior Regional Championships.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “Oh I…that’s. Wow. That’s amazing.”

“Well, they’re not Olympic gold medals,” Eric chirped, elbowing Jack and loving the way he smiled shyly. “But it was nice. And I loved it.”

“But you stopped?” Jack asked.

Eric let out a tiny sigh. “My dad’s a football coach and it was…difficult enough bein’ the way I am. Throwing figure skating into the mix…”

“The way you are?” Jack repeated. “Funny, attractive, brilliant…”

Eric flushed so hot he felt like he was going to pass out. “That’s…hah. That’s real nice of you, but in the tiny town I grew up in, those sorts of things just get you locked in supply cupboards and stuffed into trash bins and lockers. It was easier to just stop.”

Jack let out a puff of air. “Crisse that’s…I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I had a lot of good years after high school,” he assured him, leaning into him further. Jack shifted too, his weight heavy against Eric’s side, tucking him in close. Jack’s hand landed at Eric’s hip, and his fingers absently pushed up his shirt, drawing searing-hot lines against his skin above the waistband of his jeans. Eric’s breath came out shaky, but he pushed into the touch. “So to answer your question, yes I can skate. And I think she’d love that.”

Jack smiled, the fire reflecting in his bright eyes which were intense as they kept Eric’s gaze. “So it’s a date.”

“Date number two. I…you’re alright with this, Jack? With me having a kid? I mean, this is the easy part. Your dad babysitting, having a night out. But it’s…it’s a lot. And I know you know what it’s like, growing up the way she’s growing up. Surgery, PT, exercises, some nights where she’s crying for hours because it hurts.”

“Eric,” Jack said a little helplessly.

“I’m not trying to get ahead of myself. But before she was even born, the idea of her sent my ex running for the hills, and I don’t think I can take another split over something that I can’t change. And I can’t change anything about her. I wouldn’t want to. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Jack shook his head, his hand moving up higher on Eric’s waist, gripping tighter like he was afraid Eric might get up and walk off. “I can’t see into the future. I have no idea how I’m going to feel in a week, in a month. But right now I can tell you I like you more than I have liked anyone in…a long time. Maybe ever. And I think your daughter is great. And I’ve never been afraid to…to have a child in my life.”

Eric licked his lips. “So you want to…maybe give this a try?”

Jack laughed softly, leaning in, nuzzling Eric’s cheek with his nose. “I do. My schedule is hectic. I’m a high school teacher, and a coach. I play hockey in my spare time and I don’t want to give that up. But I want to make time for you and Matilda. And we live close. And I think if we really want this, we can make it work.” Jack shifted then, his other hand coming up, brushing along Eric’s jaw before cupping it. “Can I…?”

“Yes,” Eric breathed, then he surged up, and Jack met him half way. And they were kissing.

It was soft, sweet and delicate, hesitant in the way most first kisses were. Jack’s large hand kept still on Eric’s face, the other cupping Eric’s side, and it felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. Jack pulled back for a minute, his eyes half-lidded, staring into Eric’s before he dove back in again.

It wasn’t until the buzzing of a phone interrupted them that they broke apart, and Jack fumbled for his pocket. “It’s my dad,” he murmured.

Eric felt slight panic as Jack answered.

“Ouais? Ah…non…non, nous avo—…d’accord.” He pulled the phone away. “Matilda’s having a little moment. Can she speak with you?”

“Oh lord, I’m so sorry,” Eric breathed. “Of course.” He took the phone from Jack, and a moment later, he heard Matilda sniffling on the other end. “Baby, what’s the matter?”

“Daddy I miss you.”

“Oh sweetheart, I miss you too.”

“Did you forget me?”

Eric’s eyes went wide. “No. I’m just having dinner with Jack.”

“Okay but…pea-cos I had a bad dream. Are you coming home tonight?”

“I am,” Eric said. “We’re almost done here, okay? Can you get some cuddles from Bob until I get there?”

“Yeah. He’s just holding me and we could watch some Frozen. He’s has some good cuddles.”

“Oh good,” Eric said, relaxing when she sounded calmer. He told himself this was normal. That because Eric didn’t do this a lot, it was normal for her to be nervous. He glanced at Jack who was smiling softly, still tucked in close, and he felt himself relax more. “Do you want me to come right this minute, or can you wait a little bit longer?”

“I could wait. I could just haff some cookies and wait,” she said.

Eric tried not to groan about the late-night sweets, and he managed a smile. “Just not too many. I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

“Okay bye,” she said, and the line went dead.

Eric sighed as the handed the phone back. “I’m sorry. She’s not…I don’t really go out, you know. So it’s…”

“New, unfamiliar?” Jack offered. Eric nodded with a sigh, and Jack’s hand moved back up to his face, his mouth coming in to press soft, pecking kisses to the corner of his mouth. “I get it. I was very clingy with my mother, and I was used to her being gone all the time. So I understand.”

“I don’t want to rush back. I don’t want this to end,” Eric breathed.

“So stay,” Jack said. When Eric opened his mouth to protest that he couldn’t be out that late, Jack said, “At the hotel. There’s room. You don’t even have to stay with me. I mean. I’m not…I don’t mean we should…” Jack cleared his throat, and shook his head. “I’d just like more time with you.”

Eric felt his mouth soften, and his heart threaten to beat out of his chest. “I’d like that. I’d…like to stay.”

Jack grinned openly. “Oh. Well…good. Then we can head back. I think I heard the word Frozen, and you haven’t experienced that film until you’ve heard Alexei’s rendition of Let It Go.”

“Oh boy,” Eric groaned, but he couldn’t help his huge grin.

*** 

Jack woke in a steam of sunlight, in a bed where he wasn’t alone. He couldn’t quite remember how long it had been since he’d woken up like this. A tuft of hair pushed against his face, his arms round a warm body, breath puffing against his chest.

He snuggled into Eric’s embrace, feeling slow and lazy, until something small and knobby pushed against his spine. Then he heard a giggle, and felt tiny fingers brushing through his hair.

“I could make you pretty,” a little voice whispered.

Jack felt his mouth curve into a smile, the joy involuntary and surprising as he turned slightly. “Yeah?”

He saw Matilda, her hair a wild mess, tucked up under the hood which looked like a unicorn face of her pyjamas, her eyes bright with the morning energy only a four year old could possess. She reminded Jack so much of Nat, and so much of Eric, and nothing of himself which he loved in a way. He’d been a quiet child, full of anxiety and stress, and the pressure of having famous parents and a disability, had beaten him down until he spent years a shell of himself.

This child was none of those things. And he loved it.

“Do you want some tails?” she asked.

Jack nodded. “Yes, please.”

She smiled bright, and pushed and shoved at him until he was on his front, and she was perched between his shoulder blades. Her hands worked at his hair as he lay there, his chin propped up on his arms folded across his pillow.

It was a little while before Eric woke, but when he did, his soft brown eyes widened at the sight. “Oh lord,” he murmured, his voice husky from sleep.

Jack felt that all the way in his chest, and he smiled. “Just having my hair done.”

Eric snorted into the pillow, rolling closer to Jack, pushing a kiss onto his arm. “You’re a saint,” he murmured. “Even I don’t have the patience.”

“Beauty is worth it,” Jack chirped.

When it was over, he let Eric take several selfies of the three of them before Jack removed the bobbles from his hair, and they got up for the day. Jack was treated to Matilda’s morning routine, which was apparently fighting Eric on everything from what outfit to wear, to the placement of her socks, to wearing her braces.

When that looked like a near losing battle, Jack moved to his case and pulled out his own. It was rare when he wore them these days. Only on the occasion when he needed the extra support, which sometimes occurred after intense games.

When Matilda saw what he was doing, she stopped shouting and stared. Jack carefully made his way to the floor, stretching out beside her, his back resting against the bed. He glanced at Eric to ensure it was alright, and saw the other man looked relieved, if not a little nervous.

“If you put yours on, I’ll put mine on too and we can match,” Jack said.

Matilda frowned. “I don’t like it.”

“I didn’t like it when I was little, either. But sometimes it’s good to wear, right?”

She sniffed, turning her nose up. “But…”

“And if you wear them, then we can go play some hockey. Do you wanna play hockey?”

Her eyes widened. “I could play? Wiff you?”

Jack nodded sagely. “You could play with me and your daddy, and maybe Bob and Alexei will come to, eh?”

“Yeah okay I could wear them and play!” She shifted back into Eric’s lap, and he let out a small sigh of relief as he strapped them on, then got her shoes on.

“Do you still want me to wear mine?” Jack asked her.

Matilda cocked her head to the side. “No pea-cos you is a big boy so it’s okay. I could be big too when I get five. Then….but…but then I could not wear them.”

“You keep tellin’ yourself that, my love,” Eric said as he gave her butt a swat before pushing her walker toward her. He gave Jack a wink as she moved into the lounge were Bob was awake, making coffee, and he shifted over until he was pressed against Jack’s side. “Sorry, I know that was a lot.”

Jack chuckled. “She’s spirited.”

“Yeah well…it would’ve been nice for some parenting book to warn me how much coffee I was going to need for my _spirited_ child.” He went quiet, then he reached over and took Jack’s hand. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

Jack shrugged. “I have them, I wear them sometimes. I thought it might be nice for her to see that even grownups have them sometimes.”

Eric bit his lip, then said, “Sorry if this is…too forward. Too soon. But I’m just…real grateful she has you.”

“She’s not the only one who has me,” Jack whispered quietly.

Eric sucked in his breath, then turned and let his mouth be captured by a kiss. It was a closed-mouth kiss, both of them a little sour from sleep, but it was sweet and wonderful. Jack couldn’t help himself, dragging Eric onto his lap, drawing it out, pressing soft pecks along his jaw, down his neck.

“Lord, I can’t wait to get you all to myself for a night,” Eric murmured.

Jack blushed. “Me too,” he whispered back.

Their moment was interrupted by a loud squeal, and a stream of giggles. Eric pulled back, but not too far, still letting Jack hold him in the circle of his arms. “I think that’s our cue. I might…be a while before we get that night.”

Jack laughed, then pushed a kiss to the back of Eric’s head. “Good thing I’m a very patient man, then.”

Eric turned and gave him a proper kiss. “Good thing,” he echoed, then pushed himself up to get ready for the day.

*** 

Eric hadn’t been on skates in years, but the first glide of ice under his blades, and he was home again. Bob and Alexei had already strapped into their hockey skates, and Jack was showing Eric how to get Matilda safely strapped into her own. Since hers was beginner, her sled had a handle at the back for Eric to push her, though Jack gave her two child-sized hockey sticks to try and propel herself with.

Fitted with a helmet and pads, she looked every bit the hockey player Eric had imagined, and he let Bob take over pushing so he could take a hundred photos before they got down to business.

Eric hadn’t laughed so much in years. Watching Jack teach Tilly how to shoot pucks, Alexei’s terrible attempt at goaltending, and Bob’s constant chirping of his son which led to a race—Bob losing terribly and pouting until Tilly gave him a kiss on the cheek to, “make it better,”.

They stopped around lunch, and found a little place near the rink with sandwiches. Tilly was exhausted and cranky, throwing a small tantrum about everything until Jack just offered to share his own chicken tenders with her, which left her sat on his lap picking off his plate in spite of Eric’s protests.

They decided to skip the park that day, Tilly a little overstimulated, and eventually they were back at the hotel, Eric loading up his car as Tilly sat in Bob’s arms sobbing that she was going to miss them all.

“We’ll see you very soon,” Bob promised. “Jack lives really close, and Alexei isn’t that far. And I’ll come visit. I’ll bring Jack’s maman with me next time, okay?”

She sniffed and swiped at her nose, laying her head on Bob’s shoulder. “But could she like some…Princess anna Frog?”

“I think she would love it. And maybe next time Alexei will have Nat?”

“You come to my house,” Alexei said, brushing his hand over her hair. “We having pool with water slide, and she have so many dolls to play with.”

“Would she be my best friend?” Tilly asked, still sad.

“You’ll have to ask her that,” Eric reminded her. “So she can make up her own mind, okay?”

Tilly pouted, but didn’t fight this time when Eric took her from Bob to strap her into her seat. She looked seconds from falling asleep, so Eric pushed Senor Bun into her lap, and put her car pillow against the side of the door.

When she was safely in, he turned to the others, and his arms flopped against his sides. “Thank you. This was…hah. This was much better than I thought it would be, when I sent that email.”

“Thank god you did,” Bob said, then dragged Eric into a firm hug. “I haven’t seen Jack smile like that in years,” he whispered.

Eric flushed, but didn’t say anything as he moved to hug Alexei. “I’m texting you soon, yes?” Alexei said. “We having lunch, maybe have play date. Come to park, feed ducks. Yes?”

Eric nodded. “Definitely.”

He watched as Bob and Alexei gave each other not-so-stealthy looks, then hurried off to give Jack and Eric time for a private goodbye. Jack rolled his eyes, but wasted no time pushing one crutch against the car so he could drag Eric close to his body.

“When can I see you again?” Jack murmured.

“Any time. I swear, Jack. I’ll make time. You just let me know.”

“I’ll text you?” Jack offered.

Eric nodded, then pushed on his toes to kiss him, slow and deep, and full of promise over what their next time together would be like. “I can’t wait,” Eric murmured.

Jack hummed, kissing him again, then pulled back. “Call me when you get in, okay? And we’ll make plans.”

Eric nodded, then with a last kiss, a last slow embrace, he peeled himself away and got in the car. His throat went tight as he switched on the engine and pulled away from the hotel. He could see Jack standing there in the car park, watching him drive off, and his eyes went hot.

It was a goodbye, but one that meant so much more. It meant a future, maybe. It meant a hello, and it meant a see you soon, and it meant this isn’t over. He took in a shaking breath, gripped the wheel tight, and pushed on the gas to hurry home.

He had a life to get on with, and one that he was really, really looking forward to.

*** 

**Epilogue**

Eric groaned as slick, warm fingers encircled him, and he pushed up against Jack’s hand. It was a lot, the pleasure shooting up his spine as he gasped, and arched his back, and came. It had been a long time since he’d done this, and this was a long time coming. Their schedules had been so busy as spring crept into summer, but finally Jess all-but shoved him out the door and said, “Go get you some before you lose it,” and told Eric she’d be locking him out so he’d better not dare show his face until Sunday.

Tilly seemed fine with it, so long as Jack came to see her soon and take her skating, which was already planned. But right now, Eric was taking full advantage of having Jack to himself for the weekend. He’d lost counts of their dates—occasional coffees, movies at home with take-away, stolen kisses in the kitchen as Eric made a pie.

But now…it was them. It was them, with bare skin and warm lips and wandering fingers.

Jack had come first, then took his time with Eric, and now they lay sweaty in each other’s arms, a little sticky, but better than Eric had felt in so long.

He didn’t move as Jack got out of bed, and returned with a warm flannel to tidy up the mess. When they were mostly clean, they curled up together, Eric’s head pillowed on Jack’s shoulder, fingers brushing through his hair.

“I never thought in a million years I’d be here,” Eric said quietly, his eyes fixed on the shadow of the ceiling fan as it made a lazy circle in the dim light of the room. “There was a part of me that really did think I had to sacrifice being happy like this, in order to be a good parent.”

“I don’t think that’s uncommon,” Jack said, twisting some of Eric’s hair round his fingers. “I think a lot of people are too willing to accept discontentment as some sort of punishment for being who they are. It’s hard to break that cycle.”

“You know what it’s like,” Eric said, not a question.

Jack answered it anyway. “I know what it’s like. But I also know that now I have this…have you, have Matilda, I don’t want to let go.”

“Don’t,” Eric said, almost begging. He turned onto his side, pushing up on his elbow, staring into Jack’s eyes. “Please don’t let go.”

Jack’s lips curved up into a smile, his fingers curling, brushing the backs of his knuckles along Eric’s jaw. “Couldn’t if I tried. I…” He hesitated and Eric felt his breath hitch in his chest because he was pretty sure he knew what was coming, but he was too afraid to hope. Too afraid to… “I love you.”

Eric felt his eyes grow hot and wet, and he blinked hard, his breath shaking as he let it out slowly. He swallowed against the lump in his throat, then dipped his head down, burying his face against Jack’s warm skin. “Why?” he blurted. “God, I’m such…my life is such a disaster. I don’t…” He lifted his head, shaking it. “I don’t want to know why,” he admitted. “I just…need you to know I love you too. I think I might have loved you from the second I met you.”

Jack chuckled, brushing his hand up, over Eric’s cheek, into his hair, then down the back of his neck to pull him in for a kiss. Against his mouth he murmured, “The list of why would be too long anyway. We’d be here the rest of our lives.”

Eric pulled back, unable to help his grin. “Charmer.”

Jack shrugged. “Only with you.”

Falling down, Eric tucked himself tight round Jack, closed his eyes, and breathed him in. “I’m okay with that, you know. I’m greedy, want you to myself.”

Jack laughed and kissed his temple. “You know…I’m okay with that too.”


End file.
